


Giving A Star The World

by bad_ideas_but_make_it_aesthetic



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi Keiji-centric, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou Fluff, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou-centric, BokuAka Week, Bokuto Koutarou & Kuroo Tetsurou are Bros, Bokuto Koutarou Being Bokuto Koutarou, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Fluffyfest, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, M/M, One Shot, POV Akaashi Keiji, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 10:35:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27969182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bad_ideas_but_make_it_aesthetic/pseuds/bad_ideas_but_make_it_aesthetic
Summary: A/N HI, so this is my first fanfic! Just a fluffy one shot. Inspiration was from an anonymous tumblr prompt (will be posted in Notes as to not give spoilers).English is not my first language, constructive criticism is welcomed!Enjoy!!
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Kudos: 20





	Giving A Star The World

Akaashi was done with everyone and everything the moment his captain strutted- yes, he strutted. He did not walk, because that at least would’ve been more bearable for poor, sleep deprived Akaashi . He strutted fifteen minutes late into the gym for practice wearing a ridiculous fake white beard with those stupid, tantalizing golden eyes of his scanning the room, barely containing his palpable excitement about explaining whatever the hell was happening. He stood smack in the middle of the court, seizing the coach’s absence to make a statement and announce his presence by loudly (and very obnoxiously) clearing his throat. It was only Monday, and Akaashi was already done.

-Hey, hey, hey! Ahem!- Bokuto rocked on his heels with his hands clenched tightly into fists by his sides, probably to keep from dramatically stroking his beard. The team snickered good naturedly, decidedly planning to make Bokuto wait and sweat as punishment for being late to practice. 

Akaashi was slowly but surely losing his shit. He could see those gelled-up, gravity -defying spikes of his start to wilt and droop downwards with every passing second. 

-”Ah, Bokuto. Now that you’re finally here we can run through some plays. After that, Coach said we’ll focus on individual practice. Your cross spikes were a little inconsistent during our last practice match with Nekoma.”- Konoha said, donning what was obviously feigned nonchalance at Bokuto’s antics. Obvious to everyone but Bokuto himself of course. 

The rest voiced their agreements with barely contained laughter, clearly wanting to keep the gag running a little longer.

Thus, Akaashi came up with an analysis and a plan of action to the situation. Well, really, he had two: the one he forced himself to have in order to justify his actions and the one that actually went through his mind.

Within a fraction of a second, Akaashi thought back to their practice match with Nekoma two days prior, on Saturday. Kenma and Kuroo had tagged along with Bokuto and Akaashi to get some ice cream. It’s not that this was something new. Getting ice cream with Bokuto was a common occurrence in Akaashi’s life. Those scalding summer afternoons after practice, Bokuto would lean on Akaashi’s back and trap him in a firm but so very gentle embrace, hair flat and dripping after their respective showers, droplets falling on Akaashi’s collarbone and breath tickling his ear and whine in that melodramatic and so lively way of his, “Agashee, I’m hot. Let’s get some ice cream on the way home.” And so, Akaashi’s summer afternoons were spent ignoring the urges to wipe the dribbles of melted ice cream down Bokuto’s chin, and trying to- unsuccessfully- suppress small smiles and breathless giggles elicited from an always too loud voice spouting useless babble and blaming pink tinged cheeks on the heat from the sun and not those golden orbs staring adoringly and unflinchingly at Akaashi, like nothing else mattered- like he was Bokuto’s world. Winter came and the dread of empty cold ice-creamless afternoons bore down on Akaashi like a train. But still, Bokuto would wrap his arms around from behind Akaashi on cold days after winter practice, warm like no sweater would ever be, with hair properly dried and soft where it touched the tip of Akaashi’s ears, whisper-shouting “Agaashee, let’s go get some coffee. It will help me study, I swear”. And Akaashi went, and spent his winter afternoons ignoring how Bokuto never ordered coffee (he hated bitter things and loved the cold) but knew Akaashi loved it and hated the cold, how Bokuto would place his hands over Akaashi’s own clasped over the warm mug saying he was cold (but Bokuto never got cold, and they both knew this). And so, it wasn’t that going out with Bokuto after playing volleyball was any different than what they usually did. But Kuroo’s shit eating grin and Kenma’s all knowing stare was an ever present reminder of everything he buried spending his seasons with Bokuto. 

The foursome wandered aimlessly through the streets of Tokyo for what seemed like an eternity, trusting Kuroo to lead them to this “Amazing ice cream place that makes their ice cream cones look like an owl. An owl, Bokuto! We gotta go there. Maybe they’ll make a cat shaped one if I ask nicely! Oi, Kenma! Pay attention to where you’re walking”. And so Akaashi was subjected to the sight of Kuroo delicately placing a hand over Kenma’s nape while he hunched over his game and guiding him through busy streets and the sickly sweet sight of Kenma implicitly trusting Kuroo, even though Kenma hated crowds and strangers more than anything. As if this wasn’t enough, Bokuto was shining with unbridled joy, screeching and hooting, eliciting strange yet adoring looks from passersby nearby. “Agashee agasheeee, let’s get matching ones and take pictures. Oho oho we can show the team! Maybe next time we can all come!” The worst part was Akaashi’s face. He felt his own smile, the corners of his mouth refusing to stay in their usual straight line. He could feel himself coming alive with Bokuto’s every word. The absolute horror.

-”Oi, Akaashi. Didn’t know you could smile like that”-

-”Agaashe always smiles like that when he’s with me”- Bokuto retorted proudly jabbing his chest with his thumb, failing to notice Kuroo’s mischievous smirk at having succeeded in his attempt to embarrass Akaashi. 

Their afternoon was spent with an overly conscious Akaashi failing to hide his blatant feelings for his captain, a very dense and oblivious Bokuto, an irritating rooster with a mocking glare in his eyes, and a quiet Kenma appraising everything and sending silent, charged stares Akaashi’s way. 

And so, Akaashi spent Saturday and Sunday night tossing and turning trying not to dream of toned legs under black knee pads, radiant smiles, and golden suns. Thus, this led to a sleep deprived Akaashi staring at a soon to be emo Bokuto with a white beard in the middle of summer Monday afternoon practice.

Akaashi thought there were three options:  
Option A: Cave in and ask Bokuto about his beard to appease him, thus ensuring a reliable ace with consistent spikes during practice.  
Option B: Let the team ask on their own, which could either lead to a depressed Bokuto or an ecstatic Bokuto depending on how long they took to ask.  
Option C: Ignore the situation and suffer through practice with Bokuto in his emo mode, spiking horribly and dejectedly. 

One look at the devilish grins on his teammate’s faces and Akaashi decided.  
-”Bokuto-san, why are you wearing a beard in the middle of practice?”-

Bokuto’s horns perked up immediately and Akaashi tried not to let it get to his head (Bokuto-san is like this with everyone, I’m not special). 

-”Agaasheeee, I thought you’d never ask! Owls are what you would call a BEARD of prey.”-

And then, it happened. Bokuto happened.

Bokuto smiled at him like he always did, radiantly, proudly, and ardently and looked at him like he always did, intensely, fixedly, and fondly. Akaashi was enraptured, like he always was. Akaashi knew his “three options” were utter bullshit. The only thought that went through his head was getting to see that sight. How can he make Bokuto smile and look like that at him always? How can he keep seeing it?

Akaashi laughed, quiet in his way, but deep and heartedly. Bokuto and the team stared, awestruck and dumbfounded at the sight. Akaashi leaned in to whisper to a very pink Bokuto.

-”Let’s get some ice cream after practice, Bokuto-san”. 

Bokuto beamed and bounded off to warm up before Coach came back. The practice went by in a flash and Akaashi found himself staring at a flat-haired Bokuto Koutarou drying his hair in the almost empty locker rooms. Akaashi took a small hesitant step towards him. Looking back, Akaashi had always known. He had always known that even though Bokuto was a ray of sunshine in everyone’s life, there were things he saved for Akaashi alone. Longing stares, calloused hands, drips from wet hair, pink cheeks, and ticklish necks. These things Bokuto gave to Akaashi alone. And Akaashi had treasured them all in secret. But now, looking at the fake beard peeking out from Bokuto’s bag, staring at the flex of his arms as he toweled his hair roughly (how is it always still so soft?) Akaashi decided we wanted to let the world know that Bokuto and all his sweet words and touches were his alone, belonged to him. He decided he wanted to give some of his own to Bokuto. He wanted to give him the world. 

So, Akaashi sat next to Bokuto and grabbed the ends of the towel dangling next to his face and pulled towards him, meeting his lips with his own in a tender barely there peck. Bokuto blinked owlishly once. Twice. Akaashi’s cheeks burned with embarrassment and his heart raced with fear, fear that maybe he had read wrong, Bokuto gave nothing exclusively to him, his tenderness was something he shared with the world. Akaashi started.

-”Bokuto- san, I-”

-”Agaaasheee!! I like you, too. So much!! I can’t believe you beat me to it, I was just waiting for the perfect moment ‘cause agashee a perfect person like you needs a perfect confession and I just couldn’t get it right...”-

Bokuto slowly lifted his gaze from the floor and stopped his rambling suddenly, gold eyes drilling holes into Akaashi’s, drinking in his flushed cheeks and his smile (wider than he had ever seen it), placed a rough calloused hand on Akaashi’s cheek, with the tenderness of a feather, and met their lips again.

Akaashi was glad he finally figured out how to keep seeing his star’s smile forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt inspo:
> 
> Bokuto shows up to practice one day in a huge white fake beard and when his teammates ask him why, he strokes it and tells them this: “Owls are what you would call a BEARD of prey.”


End file.
